Master and Servant
by Evenstar
Summary: *COMPLETE* After the fall of Voldemort Draco Malfoy rises to become the new Dark Lord and he wants Harry to join him. But Harry wants something in return...*SLASH*
1. A Bargain

mast1

Disclaimer: As much as I hate to say this, they aren't mine (damn). They're JK Rowling's, I'm just having some fun with them, but not for any profit!!!  
  
All right, my second try at HP fanfic is here, it's a bit edgier than my first one. If you guys think it's all right so far tell me and I'll start adding more chapters!!!  
  
  
  
  
Harry stared at the pale man leaning arrogantly against the wall across from him, wondering if could possibly have heard what he just thought he had.  
  
  
  
Draco Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his silver eyes insolently at him. Join with me.  
  
Harry sank slowly onto the couch, his eyes wide with undisguised amazement. He, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, he who had defeated Lord Voldemort two years ago during his seventh year at Hogwarts had just received what was probably the most bizarre offer of his life - the chance to join up with the new Dark Lord, Heir to Voldemort, son of one of the most infamous Death Eaters, and a wizard of extraordinary power. His former archenemy - well, maybe not exactly _former_ , but - Harry looked appraisingly at Draco through lowered eyelashes - their relationship had changed since school. Changed quite a bit, in fact. Harry knew damn well why he hadn't just murdered this new terror to the wizarding world when he'd randomly shown up in his Diagon Alley apartment but he wasn't about to give Draco his reasons. Toying with him first would be so much more fun.  
  
Harry allowed himself a small smile, thinking about what everyone would think if he took Draco up on his offer. Everyone thought he was so noble, so good - all because of Voldemort, never bothering to think that that had just been, well, personal.  
  
Oh, when he was younger he'd been full of notions about good and evil. Everything had been either black or white, he hadn't been able to see the many shades of gray that swirled through the world. He'd just put everything into one of two simple categories. So easy.  
  
He knew now that it wasn't sometimes so easy. He'd grown up.  
  
What was it Professor Quirrell had said to him so long ago? _There is no good and evil, there is only power. _Made a lot of sense, actually. He just hadn't been able to see that at the time but now...now he understood completely.  
  
He was so sick of everyone fawning over him, believing he was some kind of super boy because of some scar on his forehead. Always going on about his _nobility , _his _bravery, _his _goodness. _When in the end the force that had been driving him to destroy the Dark Lord was hate. Hate and vengeance.  
  
Forces traditionally associated with the Dark Side, but he had used them to destroy Darkness. It all depends on how the power is used.  
  
Draco would never cling, simpering, to Harry. Which partly explained Harry's obsession with him.  
  
He grinned slyly up at the dragon. _His _ dragon. Why me?  
  
Draco shifted impatiently. Because you're powerful. Because if we join forces there's nothing - _nothing _- we couldn't do. His silver eyes met Harry's green ones, his gaze blazing with an unearthly intensity. I'll give you anything, anything you want if you'll just agree.  
  
Harry's smile widened. He stood up and moved until he was standing mere inches away from Draco.  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry tilted his head so that it was extremely close to the other's ear, his breath stirring that silky silver-blonde hair when he spoke.   
  
I just want one thing, Draco, one thing that is very much yours to give.  
  
Draco shifted so he could look directly into Harry's eyes again. Name it.  
  
Harry traced Draco's collarbone lightly, smiling inwardly as he felt the tension run through the other's body at his touch. He leaned in to him, their lips very close.  
  
I want - _you,_ he whispered and caught Draco's lips in a burningly passionate kiss, driving the slender blonde into the wall as he gently parted his lips with his tongues, letting Draco know fully how much he wanted him and how much he'd do for him. He drew it out with agonizing slowness, finally pulling back to take in the other's reaction when he felt that they'd just about pass out if they didn't get some air.  
  
Draco was smiling slightly, Harry noticed with satisfaction. He lightly ran his thin white fingers through Harry's dark hair, letting them come to rest at the nape of his neck in a maddeningly light caress.  
  
All right. I'm yours, now do we have a deal?  
  
Harry smiled in satisfaction as he ran his hands over Draco's chest, reveling in the contact. He leaned in closer.  
  
he whispered softly into the night air. Mine mine mine mine mine.  
  
  
  
Sorry if Harry seems so out of character, but I really like the idea of him having a bad side...*evil smile* I hope that wasn't too bad...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Mark

mast2

Disclaimer in Part 1  
  
Ok, chapter two is up!!! It's kinda long, but....by the way, I have no idea where the Carpathian Mountains are other than in Eastern Europe in general, just pretend they're by Romania, k?  
  
  
  
Drachkan Castle was hidden deep in the Carpathian Mountains near the Rumanian borders, an ominous looking ruin whose dark walls thrust into the blood-red sky like a dragon's tooth. There was no greenery around it, only rocks, as if anything living couldn't bear to take root in such a threatening atmosphere. Harry didn't blame them. Given a choice, he would rather not be here as well. He reached out and touched the cool, moss-covered decaying stone, unable to keep a slight expression of distaste from his bright green eyes.  
  
This is the best you could do? I mean come on, you're arguably the most powerful wizard in the world and yet you choose _this _-  
  
He broke off at the scornful look Draco shot at him, biting down on his lip so hard that it bled. He wasn't about to risk invoking his volatile dragon's wrath now, not when he finally had him. Or had him as much as he was ever likely to. Harry's eyes narrowed at that thought, much as he enjoyed having Draco at last he wanted something more than just his body. He wanted his heart.  
  
His obsession had started in his sixth year. That's when he'd first realized how _fascinating _Draco was, that's when he'd started wondering just why Draco was the way he was, became consumed by the need to know what kind of life had created such a cold, bitter, vicious thing. He'd silently stalked the Slytherin through the halls, watching his every move, memorizing every line of that face, every inflection of that oh-so-familiar voice, aching to penetrate his mystery. He put so much time into it, studying Draco Malfoy until he knew him as well as he knew himself - it was hard work, actually. And then it had deepened from just curiosity into something else, something more binding, something that felt almost primal. It was around then that he realized how much he _wanted _Draco, _needed _him even, and it wasn't through lust. No, nothing so trivial as lust. Love wasn't even strong enough to describe what he felt for Draco, it was beyond that. It was as if he'd been waiting his entire life to find him and now that he had - well, there was no way he could let him escape.  
  
Harry had a feeling that somewhere deep inside him Draco felt the same or he wouldn't've chosen Harry as his ally or agreed to Harry's terms, but - he scowled at Draco as he drew some sort of design on the decrepit castle gates with his wand - he certainly didn't show it.  
  
Well. Harry had no intention of letting things stay that way.  
  
Draco beckoned to him and he sauntered over, idly kicking at a few small rocks that happened to be in his way. He followed Draco through the imposing oak doors and found himself in the Great Hall. Harry drew up short in surprise.  
  
The place might look run down and ready to collapse from the outside, but Drachkan's interior was something completely different. The icy stone walls were shrouded in rich tapestries of the most vibrant colors, luxurious furnishings were strewn all over the heavily carpeted floors, and a soft light that seemed to be coming from nowhere suffused everything in a soft golden glow. It was more comfortable than anyone could've believed possible to judge from the ramshackle facade, but then again, that was the purpose of enchantments. To deceive.  
  
Draco smiled slightly at Harry's obvious astonishment but didn't linger. He headed away to the massive central staircase, Harry just a breath behind him.  
  
They climbed for what seemed like an eternity, up staircases so narrow they were forced to walk single file, staircases that were invisible so they had to feel their way up them, staircases that curved in spirals, staircases that would randomly relocate to another part of the castle. Harry was starting to wonder how many bloody staircases the place could possibly hold when they suddenly emerged into a circular room that seemed to be at the very top of the castle.  
  
It's walls were in fact large windows that were open to the air, offering a panoramic view of the bleak mountain landscape around them. Harry walked over to one of them and stared out wearily at the desolate countryside, drumming his fingers absently against the cold stone sill, wondering what was going to happen now. He glanced over at Draco, who was standing in the exact center of he room apparently lost in thought, his gaze turned inward. He seemed to sense Harry's eyes on him and beckoned o him.  
  
You're being initiated tonight.  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows.   
  
Draco nodded curtly. Oh, don't worry, you won't be just another minion if that's what you're worried about. He seized Harry's right wrist, regarding the pale unblemished skin with a slight furrow between his brows. Branding his followers with a mark that would bind them to him was a rather useful trick of Voldemort's, one I've seen fit to adopt. Harry followed Draco's glance to his inner left forearm where the ghost of the Dark Mark could sill be seen on the fair skin, a reminder that Draco himself had once been a suppliant. Harry brushed it lightly with his fingertips; Draco jerked his arm away, a slight flush creeping across his pale skin. He didn't like being reminded of _that _part of his past; masters don't like to recall when they were servants.  
  
And what's your Mark, then?  
  
Draco gave another one of his faint smiles. A dragon.  
  
Suddenly Draco pulled Harry close against him, his hands holding Harry in an inescapable grasp, capturing Harry's mouth with his own in a fierce kiss. Harry leaned into it, kissing back passionately, enjoying the fierce possessiveness of Draco's touch even as he noticed it's unexpected tenderness. He allowed himself an inward smile, maybe Draco really did share Harry's feelings. That kiss certainly made for a very strong case.  
  
They broke away from it, sucking air into their starved lungs, but neither pulled away. Draco cupped Harry's face gently in his hands, looking deep into his eyes.  
  
Are you ready?  
  
Harry leaned his forehead against Draco's. Yes. I'm yours, to do with as you like.  
  


* * *  
  


They stood in a circle, their faces shrouded by their heavy black cowls, the new generation of Death Eaters now united under a new Dark Lord. Who stood in their center, his features illuminated by the silvery light of the moon, making him look like some otherworldly angel come to earth. Harry though that he'd never looked so beautiful.  
  
Draco drew out his wand and pointed it at an intricately painted picture of a human heart, it's grotesque beauty seeming to pulse on the floor. __  
  
A deep violet fire sprang up, bathing the scene in a weird glow. Draco turned to Harry, his face an expressionless mask.  
  
You come to us willingly?  
  
Harry kept his green eyes fixed on Draco's silver ones.   
  
You are willing to follow a path most others would shun, willing to be ruthless and cruel, using any means to achieve your ends, willing to rule by fear and to embrace the Darkness?  
  
  
  
Draco put his face very close to Harry's and it was all Harry could do not to flinch from the intensity in that gaze.  
  
You are willing to be faithful to me for as long as you might live no matter what I might call on you to do, and do you swear never to betray me?  
  
Harry's voice was tinged with a kind of savage eagerness as he answered.   
  
Draco's eyes remained fixed on Harry's for a moment before he turned away to face his minions. Harry, watching him, was struck by the amount of control he could exert so effortlessly over this group of dark wizards mostly older than himself. Even though he was only nineteen Draco seemed to have the ability to inspire fear and awe in others - probably something he'd inherited from the Malfoy bloodline.  
  
This is Harry Potter, he said, his voice soft but easily heard. He is here to join us, and I have accepted him. Let it be so.  
  
The circle of dark robed beings nodded their acceptance of their master's decision, concealing any surprise they might have felt. Draco turned back to Harry and seized his right wrist, turning it so that the vein-laced skin showed upward, then pressed his wand tip against it, sending what felt like an electric shock through Harry.  
  
_Insingnio engravas Dracosmodre! _he cried and Harry felt his body shudder from the sudden jolt of pure power that flooded through him. It was agony, it was ecstasy, was there really any difference between the two -? It was burning, it was freezing, Harry felt like he was being lifted out of his body to some place beyond feeling where he could just float in the Void around him, feeling the motion of the entire cosmos - he opened his mouth to cry out -  
  
- and was right back in the tower room of Drachkan Castle, staring up at Draco. He dropped his eyes to his wrist and there it was - a tiny dragon with it's wings outstretched and snarling up at him. It was beautiful, in a very fierce, aggressive sort of way.  
  
Draco grabbed his wrist and shoved it into the magical flames. Harry hissed softly at the sensation, although the flames didn't hurt him they filled him with a strange prickling sensation. When Draco pulled his hand out he noticed that the Mark had gone a deep, shiny black. Draco pressed his lips briefly against it before dropping Harry's wrist.  
  
Silver and green eyes met and locked.  
  
Are you ready for this? Draco raised one eyebrow very slightly.  
  
Harry smiled, a smile whose cold harness looked very unnatural on him.  
  
Teach me. Teach me _everything.  
  
_  
  
Ok...there goes Chapter 2!! So is this so overblown it's laughable or is it actually somewhat decent...it felt kinda extravagant in this chapter, but maybe that' s just my paranoia. Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far, I really appreciate it!!!!  
  
  



	3. Gringotts

mast3

Disclaimer in Part 1  
  
  
  
Moonlight. What a wonderfully deceptive substance it was, bathing the world in it's pale glow and giving everything a feeling of safety when in fact so many acts of treachery and fear were committed in it's silvery shine. It was an illusion; it was a trap. A trick. Deception made manifest, choking everything it touched. And disguised as something so innocently beautiful.  
  
It was _perfect._  
  
Harry apparated into Diagon Alley, the only living thing in an otherwise empty street. During the day you would be hard pressed to find a busier place, what with all the wizarding folk converging to do their shopping and socializing, but at night - at night it was something else again. The normally bustling shops were closed, awnings drawn tight over shuttered windows; the happy, chattering crowds were sound asleep leaving nothing but the somewhat eerie noises of the night. It was creepy at night, with brooding shadows lurking everywhere and the cobblestones adding a feel of the archaic and mysterious to the scene. And it seemed to hold whispers of danger; the wind spoke of sorrows untold: of heartbreak, of loss, of death and betrayal. The sadness hovering over everything was so palpable that it would be hard to imagine the place possibly being happy by the the light of the day. Which fit Harry's errand perfectly.  
  
Checking to make sure that the vial of potion was still secure in his robes, Harry set off for Gringotts, quivering with anticipation beneath his invisibility cloak.  
  
One thing he'd learned so far in his liaison with Draco and Co. was that being evil was actually quite fun. It gave one an exhilarating sense of power, being able to invoke so much fear so effortlessly, having ability to disrupt and ruin so many lives. And having the freedom to not have to worry about making the right decision all the time, not having to always work for the common good. Which was, quite frankly, something he'd had quite enough of for one lifetime.  
  
Evil is also very addicting. And Harry was thoroughly intoxicated.  
  
So here he was, preparing to do something reputed to be utterly and completely impossible: rob Gringotts bank.  
  
The first part went smoothly enough. Stun the goblin standing guard at the gate from beneath his wonderfully convenient cloak and snip off a few hairs. Add them to the Polyjuice Potion. Drink it down and lo! Harry was now an official Gringotts goblin.  
  
The problem being that he would only be one for a scant hour. He'd have to be very fast.  
  
In through those impressive silver doors and scurrying down that vast marble hall to the entrance to the vaults. Climbing into a cart and zooming down, down through the bowels of the earth to deep under London, the staggering amount of earth pressing in around him. Stopping in front of the vault. Running his finger nervously along the cold metal of the door, wondering if this could possibly work.  
  
It did.  
  
With an inner sigh of relief Harry stepped into the vaulted underground chamber, his keen eyes immediately finding the coveted object. He pocketed it and hurried out.  
  
He was almost up to the surface when he felt himself starting to change back, his features morphing back into those of a human, the stolen Gringotts uniform starting to tear from his increased size. As the cart rolled to a stop he hurled out into the entrance hall, his nerves jangling as he sensed the magical alarms going off as they noticed that something was very much amiss.  
  
He had to act fast. Grabbing his wand he cried, and his bundle of things came soaring at him. He grabbed it and ran desperately for the doors, wishing it was possible to disapparate in this bloody building.  
  
Coming from the various trapdoors were the goblins, staring at Harry with narrowed eyes. There was nothing else to do at this point, with a deep breath he raised his wand high.  
  
_  
  
_ The effect was immediate; a searing blue light flashed through the hall, causing a minor explosion. Several goblins lay strewn on the marble floor, killed by the force of the curse, others staggered around in blind confusion; they'd never encountered Dark Magic in _that _magnitude before. Harry took advantage of the panic to slip through the hole he'd managed to blast in the wall, disapparating the second he felt the cool night air touch his skin.  
  
The next thing he heard was Draco's cold, toneless voice. Well? Did you get it?  
  
Harry handed the thing he'd stolen over without a word, watching Draco's face break into a chillingly triumphant smile as he held the palm-sized silvery orb in his hand.  
  
The Arnelin. At last.  
  
  
  
Ooooh, Harry used a serious curse(finally). I hope that wasn't too bad, I don't specialize in action sequences. Anyway, I still haven't figured out who's going to be dominant and who's going to be submissive in the Harry/Draco relationship. I like the idea of a dominant Harry but not of a submissive Draco...hmmm. We'll see.  
  
Next chapter: Ron and Hermione find out about Harry's new lifestyle!!!


	4. Verblensvar Potion

mast4

Disclaimer in Part 1  
  
This is a Ron and Hermione chapter, kind of like an interlude. It covers how they react to Harry's behavior.  
  
  
  
Ron wasn't a religious reader of the Daily Prophet, so when Tara came swooping in through the kitchen window with it clutched in her talons he didn't so much as bother looking up from his toast. Hermione, however, was all but obsessed with knowing every last insignificant detail of what was happening in the wizarding world so she immediately pushed her tea aside and grabbed the paper eagerly. But the second she took in the bold front headline she went a ghastly shade of pale and couldn't stop her hand from spilling scalding hot tea over the entire table, a strangled sound emerging from her throat. Ron looked up, frowning. Hermione rarely got upset.  
  
  
  
Hermione's voice was almost impossible to hear as she replied. Gringotts - it's been robbed. And - and - She seemed unable to continue.  
  
Ron looked stunned. He grabbed the paper away from her and his face immediately lost all color, his fork dropping onto the table with a loud clatter as it fell from his bloodless fingers.  
  
He was shaking his head vehemently, denying it. No. This is ridiculous, this is absurd, this is _impossible_ ! He stared back down at the front page where Harry's angry face glared back at him from beneath the headline proclaiming the break-in. It was some kind of horrible mistake. Harry would never do something like that.  
  
Hermione's face had regained some color but still looked terrible, like her world was coming down around her. Which, in a way, it was. I - I suppose there could have been - a - a mistake -  
  
You _suppose_ ?  
  
The two stared at each other, then back at the article declaring that Harry had broken into Gringotts and proceeded to rob a high security vault. It made no sense whatsoever, of course. Just ridiculous. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, committing a felony like that? How could anyone possibly believe that? Had the world gone mad?  
  
We'll go see him, said Hermione, her voice shaking. We'll see him and find out that this is just someone's idea of a sick joke -   
  
Ron nodded dumbly, trying to restore some sort of order to the sea of chaos that his mind had become.  
  


* * *  
  


But when they arrived, they found Harry's apartment to be deserted.  
  
There was no sign of any kind of struggle; it just looked like he'd left one day for business as usual and never come back. Perfectly normal. Ron wandered around poking through everything as if he expected the answer to be lurking in the silverware or among the clothes. But of course it wasn't. There was nothing that was even a millimeter out of the ordinary anywhere.  
  
So where'd he go? asked Ron miserably for what had to be the fiftieth time.  
  
I don't know, came the cross retort.  
  
Well why not?  
  
Hermione crossed her arms and glared at Ron. I got here at the same time you did, she snapped, her voice tense and furious, eyes sparkling with irritation. She seemed about to go on but then stopped, a strange, dreamy expression coming over her face. Ron noticed immediately and flopped down opposite her in a squashy armchair which was a shade of green that matched Harry's eyes perfectly, recognizing the look Hermione got when she had just been hit with one of her ideas.  
  
  
  
She didn't seem to hear him. Verblensvar Potion, she murmured, her eyes fixated on some far off thing.  
  
Ron shifted impatiently. Say what?  
  
Hermione seemed to come back to earth at this expression of his ignorance and launched into an explanation.  
  
Verblensvar Potion. It's very complex and highly magical; when you take it you're sent into a deep sleep during which your consciousness is released from your body and is free to roam anywhere, very useful if you're looking for something in particular. You can will yourself straight to it.  
  
So we could use it to find Harry.  
  
Exactly. And even talk to him.  
  
They stared at each other. said Ron matter-of-factly after the moment had stretched out for an unbearably long amount of time. What all do we need?  
  
One hour and a trip to the Apothecary later Hermione was crouched in front of a simmering cauldron carefully adding ingredients as Ron read them off a page in _Most Potente Potions. _The thick midnight blue clouds of smoke that came billowing up every time she added something were making both of them feel rather drowsy.  
  
Now add the dragon's blood and that's it, said Ron through an enormous yawn.  
  
She did so and both of them stood back, blinking tiredly as they regarded the concoction. It looked like a skein of deep blue-black silk made liquid, with streaks of silver running through it, giving off a faint scent of lilacs and roses. As she looked at it Hermione felt herself sway forward as her sense of balance slipped away; she felt like she could lose herself in that rich midnight color, just slip down, down into those luxurious depths -   
  
She felt a hand on her arm and jumped. Ron was looking at her as if he'd just asked a question.  
  
  
  
When will it be ready?  
  
She looked down at the book, her eyes scanning the page. In two nights. We take it during the new moon.  
  
Ron smiled tiredly.   
  


* * *  
  


Waiting to take it was agonizing. Harry still didn't show up, but all kinds of bizarre rumors were being batted around: Harry Potter had gone off and murdered Muggles for no reason at all except to incite terror; Harry Potter had been seen conjuring the Dark Mark near Warwick; Harry Potter had been spotted consorting with werewolves and vampires in the forest. It was surprising how quickly he'd gone from being the most admired figure among the wizarding folk to one of the most feared; no one seemed to bother considering if the stories were true or not.  
  
Why don't these people _realize_ that _Harry wouldn't do that_, snarled Ron in exasperation as yet another rumor wormed it's way into their ears.  
  
Hermione didn't answer, just looked troubled. She was starting, deep down inside, to have doubts. Harry wasn't _acting _ innocent. He'd vanished without leaving any indication of where he was going, no one had seen hide or hair of him, and he hadn't even bothered to contact her and Ron. Which was as unlike Harry as all the stories were, in her opinion.  
  
But she couldn't tell Ron that. He'd just get angry with her.  
  
She stirred the Verblensvar Potion dejectedly.   
  
He scrubbed his face and looked blearily at her.   
  
I'm thinking that only one of us should take this. She indicated the rapidly simmering mixture with a poke of her wand. I mean, it's very dangerous to be outside of your body and if something were to happen while we were gone - Her voice trailed off miserably.  
  
It would be better to have one of us in a position to do something, he finished, sounding resigned. Yeah, you're right. And I guess it should be you; you'd probably be able to handle it better than I could.  
  
Hermione managed a weak grin. All right, then.  
  
You'll take it tonight?  
  
She nodded and the two lapsed back into an uneasy silence.  
  


* * *  
  


It tasted cloyingly sweet, like the perfume of a thousand roses made liquid, leaving Hermione feeling light-headed and dizzy. She staggered over to the couch and lowered herself onto it, noticing Ron hurriedly making his way to her side, looking concerned. She tried to summon a smile for him but she was falling, falling away from everything, sinking into the oblivion of sleep and there was nothing she could do to stop it -   
  
And then she was hovering in a thick gray mist that she couldn't penetrate. She tried to move her arms, her legs, _anything, _but couldn't; there was nothing to move, her body was lost somewhere in those swirling clouds, she was stripped down to pure consciousness and nothing else. The potion had worked.  
  
She felt panic rising up in her; this was scary; this was dangerous; this _incredibly stupid_; she wanted to go back - but the rational, thinking part of her brain was already kicking in. This was the way to get to Harry. Stop panicking and get going.  
  
Focusing all her will into one single desire, she called Harry's face to her mind.  
  
And then the gray fog suddenly melted away, revealing her to be speeding over rugged, threatening mountains toward a small speck on the horizon.  
  
As she drew closer she saw that it was a castle, isolated in the midst of this - wasteland.  
  
And then she passed through it's moldering walls to find herself in a small, gloomy room with only one window and one occupant - Harry.  
  
  
  
The name rang against the ancient stone walls, echoing hollowly.   
  
Harry raised his head and Hermione had the unsettling feeling that he could see her. What would have been her stomach gave a queasy lurch at the sight of his eyes - the expression in them was alien to the Harry she knew. It was a cold, calculating look - and for once he didn't look happy at her presence.  
  
His voice was like ice. I was wondering when one of you would come after me.  
  
Harry -, her voice faltered uncertainly. She wasn't quite sure what to say now. We were worried -,  
  
Spare me the formalities, Hermione, he snapped, his voice sharp. What did you come here to ask?  
  
Harry, there are the strangest stories going around about you. And, well, are they-  
  
He gave her a joyless smile. No. But every rumor has it's roots, however weak, in the truth. I _did _rob Gringotts and used Dark Magic in the process - I suppose that gave rise to a lot of it -  
  
Hermione felt horror coursing through her. Harry, no - not you -  
  
Why not? His face was full of a frightening rage. Because I'm _Harry Potter? _ Because I defeated Lord Voldemort? All of base your _extensive _knowledge of my personality on that one thing. You all thought I was so wonderful because of my scar, my tragic history. That's all you saw -  
  
Hermione couldn't take much more of this. Harry - this isn't you talking-  
  
His voice was suddenly very gentle. Look at me. Really look at me and then tell me if you think I'm under a spell.  
  
She looked. She'd seen people who were being controlled before, knew how people looked when they were forced to act against their will. And saw none of that in Harry. He was different, yes, but there was no emptiness, no fogginess in his eyes. It was Harry looking out at her, a radically different Harry, but Harry nonetheless. He was doing this willingly. Because he wanted to.  
  
And that realization threatened to rip her apart.  
  
I never knew you, then, she whispered brokenly.  
  
He smiled, a little sadly but without a trace of repentance. I suggest that you and Ron stay away from me. You don't want to get hurt.  
  
But Hermione barely heard. She was rushing back to her body, wanting only to be gone. She'd heard enough.  
  


* * *  
  


Ron was bending over her, his eyes full of questions. Well -, he began, then cut off as he saw the look in her eyes. His own grew wide with horror as realization hit him.  
  
What do we do now?' His voice was no more than a breath of air.  
  
Hermione wiped tears from her cheeks. Contact the Ministry. We need Aurors.  
  
  
  
Yes, I finally finished typing this!!!! Took long enough...I've got 19 reviews!!! For me, that's doing extremely well, I'm so glad there are people out there who like this!!! Thank you so much!!!


	5. Touch in the Night

mast5

Disclaimer in Part 1.  
  
This particular has no real relation to the plot whatsoever, when it comes down to it. I suppose it could be called The Author's Confused Continued Attempts To Make Sense Of Harry And Draco's Relationship. *grin* They keep changing personalities in every chapter, it seems like, hopefully that'll stop soon. Anyhow, this chapter is most definitely the most slashy so far, but nothing graphic, I don't do graphic. So that's your little warning. (Come on, you knew there had to be one chapter like this eventually)  
  
  
  
Draco sat on the wide stone sill stripped to the waist, his delicately muscled arms wrapped tightly around his slender body, his skin glowing faintly in the moonlight. His skin...he smiled at the sensation of the warm blood trickling over his icy body, welling up from the cuts on his shoulders and chest. It felt good, inflicting the pain on himself. Knowing that he had the power to damage himself, draw his blood up out of his veins and that if he had to he could suck his life out as well. Which was a source of comfort - everyone likes to know that their lives can be ended whenever they see fit. That they have control.  
  
Well, he'd be having control over more lives than his own very soon. Now that Harry had gotten him the Arnelin.  
  
Everything was falling into place.  
  
The Arnelin - an artifact so ancient and magical that there were many who would do anything - _anything _- to possess it: kill their families, sell their souls. Voldemort had wanted it to the point of madness in his final months but had never managed to grasp it - by then Draco had already started siphoning his power away, making him vulnerable. It was good that the Arnelin had never been seized by him or Voldemort might well have figured out was going on and destroyed him; then Draco's time would never have come. He would have remained a weak underling or dead, neither of which particularly appealed to him.  
  
The power of the Arnelin was in people's minds...whoever had it could see other people's thoughts and bend them to their will without their knowing. Not even the strongest enchantments could keep it out, everything would be laid out for the bearer to see. And then manipulated to suit their needs, however dark and twisted they were; there were no defenses against it. A perfect tool for any witch or wizard who wanted power - into which category Draco fell.  
  
Now that he had it he could do anything.  
  
He was so caught up in his own musings that he didn't hear the soft footsteps padding toward him across the cold floor, didn't sense the intense gaze in the green eyes focused on him. He jumped at the feeling of a warm hand on his cold skin and looked up to see Harry, his finger lightly tracing a pattern on Draco's white skin with the blood oozing up from his cuts, like tiny rose petals on the purest snow.  
  
I wish you wouldn't do that. It was impossible to pin down the emotion in Harry's voice.  
  
Why not? Draco leaned forward, breaking the contact albeit somewhat reluctantly. It's _my _body.  
  
No, actually, it's mine. Harry grabbed Draco's shoulders and pushed him slowly down against the stone, lowering himself onto him so that their faces were mere inches apart, green eyes gazing into silver. You gave yourself to me, remember?  
  
He started exploring Draco's jaw and neck with his mouth, using enough force to bruise the skin before capturing Draco's mouth with his own in a deeply passionate kiss, tangling his fingers in that platinum hair. He was relieved to feel Draco responding in kind; although technically Draco's feelings didn't matter so long as Harry aided him in whatever he asked, he felt better knowing that Draco was willing. Although Harry probably wouldn't've stopped if he wasn't. After all, they had made a bargain.  
  
Harry managed to guide the to the bed, kissing Draco all the way, forcing him down onto the heavy coverlet. His mouth never let up; he'd never been able to get enough of Draco and he doubted that he ever would. Draco's touch answered some yearning deep within him, gave him peace. Completed him.   
  
Draco, for his part, felt confused. Harry's hands on his body seemed to set him on fire, awakened some fierce desire that lay hidden deep within him. He unleashed all the emotion Draco kept hidden so carefully inside himself, he filled him with an insatiable longing and it unsettled him. He'd always been wary of emotion; as a Malfoy he had been told over and over again that emotions would weaken him, would cause his downfall. So he'd locked them up deep inside him and then - and then he'd gone and given himself to Harry. Who had been steadily working his way deeper and deeper into Draco from then on.  
  
As if he knew what he was thinking, Harry's lips curved into a smile against Draco's blood - streaked skin.  
  
You're mine, you know that? And one day -, his voice sank into a deep, throaty whisper, -one day you'll give me your heart and open your soul to me. And I can promise you the same in return.  
  
Draco felt a shudder run through him at those words and opened his mouth to reply but Harry's mouth was on his, cutting off all words in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle and lingered on Draco's lips for an interminable amount of time.  
  
I may be fierce but I can also be tender...  
  
Those were the last words that would be spoken for a very long time.  
  


* * *  
  


Harry watched Draco sleep, watched the moonlight play on that perfect skin, the way those eyelashes cast dark circles on his pale cheeks. He always looked so innocent when he was sleeping, it was hard to believe the things he was capable of doing; but then again had anyone believed that Tom Riddle could grow up to be Voldemort? Evil is always so beautiful - a statement that applied to Harry as well.  
  
Harry smiled grimly at that thought. No doubt the rest of the world was in shock as to what he, the Boy Who Lived, was capable of doing. Shocked that little Harry Potter would be willing to use forces so dark, go off consorting with darkness. There was a certain satisfaction in that; he'd show them that he wasn't their little figurehead for All That Is Good anymore. He was sick of that.  
  
He stood up and wandered over to the window, staring out at the bleak landscape. In some strange way he felt happier than he had ever been in doing this. It felt fitting. Natural. Like it was meant to be - the Sorting Hat had probably been right, he really would have done well in Slytherin. Too bad he hadn't been this in tune with himself at age eleven.  
  
Draco stirred restlessly in his sleep, bringing Harry back to his side, putting his arms protectively around him. Another reason why he did what he did.  
  
He had Draco.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Next chapter Plot will be coming back from her vacation. I trust she has enjoyed it. I actually know how this story will end now, it's going to be getting there that will be a problem. Wish me luck.  
  



	6. Aurors

mast6

Disclaimer in Part 1.  
  
This is an extremely short chapter written mainly for the advancement of the plot. I didn't want to combine it with any other plot threads, that's why it's alone instead of part of a longer segment.  
  
  
  
Mireille d'Renair was a twenty-five year old witch with a lustrous mane of thick black hair, sparkling black eyes, and a warm, open - hearted personality. She was known for stuffing her robes full of Chocolate Frogs to hand out to any children she happened to meet and telling fantastic stories about legendary witches and wizards of long ago for hours on end. never getting tired of entertaining others. She was loved by everyone and held in very high esteem; everyone who knew her said that it would be impossible to find someone more caring and gentle than she was. But they didn't know about her other life, a life that only a few of her most trusted friends knew about. It was her secret.   
  
Mireille was in fact one of the Ministry of Magic's top Aurors.  
  
So that explained what she was doing in the Ministry headquarters at two in the morning with her hands cupped around a steaming mug of tea as she blinked tiredly at her partner, a tall, lanky man with a permanent guarded expression named Peter Lanelin.  
  
Do you know what this is about?  
  
He shook his head shortly and seemed about to speak when the door swung open to admit Ellie Allistor, the Minister of Magic.  
  
She smiled a rather exhausted looking welcome at the pair before seating herself at the impressive mahogany conference table, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Mireille noticed that she looked like she really didn't want to be having this meeting, more like she'd rather just shove the whole situation into a box, lock it, and throw away the key. That caught her attention, in all the times she'd been called on to assist in dealing with the many instances of rampant Muggle-torture, sadism, and mass slaughter that accompanied the new Dark Lord's rise there had always been an atmosphere of tense resignation but never as if the whole thing should just be buried. This must be a rather unusual case.  
  
Ellie ran her fingers through her short brown hair in a self-conscious gesture before taking a deep breath, fortifying herself against what she had to say.  
  
You both know Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley - interns at the Departments of Secrecy and Magical Law Enforcement. She waited for their nods of confirmation before going on. Well, we've received information from them - while willingly under the influence of Veritaserum - that - that -, Ellie took another deep breath as if dreading what came next, - Harry Potter is indeed ... a threat.  
  
There was complete silence, louder than a scream. Then Mireille drew in a slow, shaking breath as Peter leaned back in his chair, his face an unreadable mask. They could both see where this was going; it was obvious.  
  
You want us to...well, track him down?  
  
Ellie nodded slowly. When you find him bring him immediately back to the Ministry for his...trial. She couldn't quite suppress a wince at saying those words. In all likelihood he'll be facing a life in Azkaban or St. Mungos at the very least... her voice trailed off into the uneasy silence that permeated the room. The whole damn thing just felt so surreal; Harry Potter...? the last person anyone would think of being a Dark wizard was now being hunted, hunted for doing terrible things and to be condemned for a life of imprisonment. But it had to be done, the laws had to be obeyed. Threats _had _to be dealt with.  
  
Peter's voice was low and expressionless. Is he in league with the Dark Lord, then?'  
  
We don't know. Ellie swallowed nervously, the blue shadows under her tired eyes very apparent in the dim light. It is, of course, possible, very likely, in fact, but we just don't know...we'll find out when he's caught.  
  
There was another long silence, broken only when Mireille put down her tea mug with a rather forceful *thunk*.  
  
We'll set out at dawn.  
  
No one was exempt from wizarding law, not even the erstwhile Boy Who Lived. And that was that.  
  
  
  
  
  
Next chapter is back to Harry and Draco with some more stuff about the Arnelin...until next time, then.  
  



	7. Darkness Rising

mast7

Disclaimer in Part 1.  
  
Well, this chapter didn't want to written, but damnit! I stuck with it and this is what came out. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
The circle of dark-robed figures had once again formed, but now they stood on one of the bleak, windswept plateaus that dotted the mountainous countryside around Drachkan, faintly illuminated in the piercing light of the stars. There was no moon. It was a sinister picture, the kind in which one would expect to find demonic rituals and the workings of black magic said to have died out centuries ago; the very air around them seemed to be charged with some dark power. Draco threw back his hair head as if drinking in the essence of the night, the pale light gilding him with a sort of otherworldly aura before stepping into the middle of the ring, his followers bowing as he stepped before them.  
  
Harry stayed a step behind him, wishing that he could stand at his side but knowing perfectly well that Draco would be angry with him if he did. Even if Draco trusted in Harry beyond any other, confided in him without any lingering doubts of betrayal, entrusted him with the most difficult and dangerous missions, appearances had to be kept up. Apparently it just wouldn't do for Harry not to appear properly subservient to the Dark Lord, which he grudgingly admitted _did _have some sense. Draco was skilled in dealing with darkness while Harry was still, for all practical purposes, a raw beginner. Draco was the mastermind behind all their work, Harry simply followed his designs. But still...he was important. He was Draco's sword arm.  
  
Well, at least he wasn't groveling in the circle with the rest.  
  
Draco walked among them with the ease and grace of a mountain lion stalking it's prey, savoring the aura of fear that rose up as he approached them. They were so easy to control, to manipulate...except for Harry. He allowed a ghost of a smile to trail across his features; gaining Harry as his ally had been a brilliant stroke of luck. Harry was worthy of him in a way that no other could be.  
  
He returned to the center, looking out at his followers with Harry like a shadow behind him, his face like a mask once more.  
  
We have the Arnelin. Everything is now in place.  
  
He reached into his robe and raised the silver orb, in plain view for all to see. It gave off a soft white glow that seemed to ripple across the ground like an almost palpable substance that would have felt like silk to the touch. There was a low muttering among dark presence, a subtle shifting of movement. This was important.  
  
Draco clutched his fingers around it in an abrupt gesture, obscuring it's glow. it is Time.  
  
The murmuring grew louder. Just behind him, Harry drew a sharp breath into his chest.  
  
Time. Time to begin the war at last. Time to finish what had been started so long ago, when Salazar Slytherin had turned his back on the other founders and organized the powers of darkness for battle for the first time. And now that they had the power to distort other's people's perceptions, control their thoughts...what could stop them? It was indeed Time, Time for them to come into their own.  
  
Draco was speaking again. We need to spread the corruption from the inside, strike at the heart. At the Ministry of Magic. If we seize control there we can easily control things everywhere...once we're in power we'll be able to - rearrange things as we see fit. He gave a chilling smile. But we go slowly at first. Build up our power until it's unshakable, _then _we can start the real work. He looked out at them from his silver eyes, cold and terrible.  
  
We have been working for this for longer than you can possibly imagine; every Dark Lord has held and cherished this goal. Do not fail me now.  
  
He gave yet another chilling smile. Or I will deal with you accordingly.  
  
The meeting was over.  
  


* * *  
  


Harry pillowed his head on his arms, looking across the gleaming ebony table surface into Draco's eyes, on a level with his own. So we start by taking over the Ministry...with the Arnelin, I'm guessing.  
  
Draco smiled. Naturally. We use it to manipulate the intents of all the members so that they serve _us _- without even knowing it. They'll be doing our will, while thinking it's their own...the rest of the wizarding world will be thrown into chaos, weak and vulnerable, unable to defend itself...then we can strike. Then we can take what's ours...  
  
Harry couldn't suppress a smile of triumph at Draco's words. Take what was theirs, indeed..._theirs. _His and Draco's. Whenever Draco used the words _we _or _ours _or _us _Harry always got the sense that they didn't include his circle of blind, groveling slaves, only the two of them, as if no one else existed. And for all Harry was concerned no one else did...all he needed was his dragon.  
  
A thought struck him, interrupting his reverie, and his brow furrowed. Won't someone be able to realize what we're doing, detect the magic -  
  
Draco smiled again. No. That's another thing that makes the Arnelin so valuable. It's impossible to detect it's influence; if someone tried to they would find no traces of interference, no traces of magic - nothing. And don't worry, we'll be subtle. By the time anyone catches on it'll be far too late. He looked at Harry for a moment, some emotion swimming through his eyes that Harry had never seen there before, when he suddenly extended a hand to him across the black, mirror-like surface of the table. I trust in you to help me to do whatever needs to be done.  
  
Harry chose to ignore the hand and instead leaned across the table and pressed his lips to Draco's, kissing him deeply.  
  
They stayed like that for a minute before Draco gently pulled away and stood up, falling back into his remote demeanor.  
  
We'll have to alert the armies - all the creatures we've called together for this purpose. Let them know it's coming, that soon they'll be able to feast on our fallen enemies. He glanced at Harry, those silver eyes aloof once more. Can you go to them for me?  
  
Harry nodded and slipped out, smiling an unseen smile at the feel of Draco's gaze on his back, following him out.  
  


* * *  
  


Dementors, giants, vampires, werewolves, banshees...all sorts of dark creatures had been gathered en masse in the deep valley, their eerie shapes and faces illuminated by the dying starlight and the faint, flickering light of torches. Harry watched them for a moment, their movements like those of some massive colony of ants, before raising his arms. Within the space of a heartbeat a deathly silence had fallen over the seething mass of bodies as they strained to hear his words.  
  
Creatures of the Dark Lord, hear me! The Time is now coming upon us, the Time when we will rise and let our strength be known. When you will be released to slake your thirst on the blood of those who would defy us, who would seek to tear us down. When you will be able to stalk freely among your prey, rather than creep about in the night. Creatures of darkness -, he drew a deep breath, - make yourselves ready!  
  
There was a muted roar from the hordes below him and Harry threw back his head and laughed in pure elation, feeling, even though he was still in Drachkan, Draco standing alongside him, his laughter joined with Harry's.  
  
  
  
Chapter 8 will be up ASAP, and don't forget to REVIEW!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!


	8. Bonds Broken, Bonds Made

mast8

Disclaimer in Part 1.  
  
  
  
Ron sifted through the massive stack of papers on his desk, flicking idly through the crisp parchment sheets covered with the neat, flowing writing that characterized all official Ministry documents, trying to push his pounding headache into the background. But of course that was a losing battle, just looking at boring report after boring report was enough to set it pounding worse than ever...he sighed and pushed a hand through his flaming hair, about to just give up and go seek out some Hegala Helsi's Headache Helpers - Now Uses Twelve Different Charms! when for some inexplicable reason his eyes fell on a half exposed document that looked no different from the rest and yet seemed to demand immediate attention. Rolling his eyes, he succumbed to the strange urge to read it at once and uncovered it completely, his eyes scanning over it. Then he stopped and read it again, more slowly. And again. And again.  
  
_What?  
  
_Ron stared at the parchment for a moment before folding it up and tucking it into his robes. He needed to find Hermione and **now_..._**he hurried from the room, the headache forgotten.  
  
Finding her proved to be a simple enough task. She had stationed herself in the cavernous dining hall, practically buried beneath the mountain of books and papers that seemed to be permanently attached to her, furiously scribbling away at something. He plunked down opposite her. She looked up, pushing her hair away distractedly.  
  
Oh - Ron -  
  
Hermione -, he removed the unprecedented sheet of parchment from his robes and shoved it across the table at her, - have you seen this yet?  
  
She looked at him, concern wafting over her face at the sight of his grim, set expression before unfolding it and reading it through, her lips moving ever-so-slightly with the words, her eyes widening in shock. She put it down slowly and looked over at Ron, a look of confusion and horror plastered on her features, her eyes dismayed.  
  
A single syllable conveying a world of fear and doubt.  
  
The two stared down at the offending message, lying so innocently on the gleaming wooden tabletop:  
  


_All activities relating to the regulation of'  
Dark Magic usage are to be suspended until  
further notice so that the efforts of the Ministry  
will be free to focus on other matters which  
are of greater importance at this time. All Aurors are  
being recalled to London immediately.  
  
_

There followed the signatures of the Minister of Magic and the individual department heads with the official seal, a phoenix perched on a crescent moon, affixed to the bottom. All nice and perfectly official.  
  
They just - can't - _do _that, said Hermione faintly. I mean - another reign of terror like You - Know - Who's is practically upon us; they decide to recall the Aurors and suspend the investigaions into the usage of Dark Magic for matters of greater importance'?!? That's just idiotic, complete nonsense...what could possibly be more important?  
  
Ron bit his lip, his eyes clouded as he stared off into the distance. You don't suppose this could have any connection with Harry?  
  
Oh, Ron. Hermione slumped back into her chair, looking utterly and completely dejected. I think it must...  
  
There was a long silence. Then Hermione's voice again, little more than a whisper.  
  
Ron, is he still our friend? Even if he is, well, different, are we justified in going after him like this?  
  
His eyes met hers and within them was a look of such deep sorrow mixed with a fierce anger and cold resolution that she flinched away from them, unable to stand their piercing gaze. She felt a shiver run through her at his words.  
  
He _was _our friend, Hermione...he was but is no longer. Better to think of him as dead. And he turned on his heel and stalked off.  
  
Hermione sighed tiredly. His words were no more than a verbal confirmation of what she'd known to be true ever since that confrontation brought on by the Verblensvar Potion. That Harry was their friend no longer.  
  
Nor were they his.  
  


* * *  
  


The underground dungeons were plunged into pitch blackness the second Draco shoved the softly glowing Arnelin back into it's pouch but that hardly mattered to him. He knew every inch of the cold stone floor, every dip in the worn stone steps leading up out of the earth, every tiny chink in the mortar that might trip him up. And besides that, he'd almost always had the rather uncanny ability to navigate with absolute ease in total darkness, a throwback to his childhood when he'd spent weeks locked in dungeons very similar to these. During those long imprisonments he'd gradually acquired that extra sense, to be able to move as confidently and smoothly when he could see nothing as when he was surrounded by light, the darkness presented no obstacles to him by now. A rather nice little talent, when all was said and done.  
  
It was lighter in the rest of the castle, the moonlight slanting in through the gothic windows, painting everything a bright, shining sliver. Draco passed through the bars of alternating darkness and light, feeling the soft radiance of the moon caressing his skin like the feel of velvet only to have it abruptly banished as he moved out of it's glow and into the shadows. It was an interesting feeling, that constant rippling sensation, one that, oddly enough, soothed him. Made him feel like he was floating in some dark pool, his mind free of all thoughts, content just to _be..._  
  
He passed into the large chamber that he and Harry shared making no more noise than a cat, padding quietly over to the edge of the bed where he stood looking down at his partner, feeling the familiar wave of confusion wash over him.  
  
He remembered Harry telling him that one day he, Draco, would give his heart and open his soul to him...Draco found himself biting his lip so hard that it bled at that memory. There was something about giving _that _much to another human being that scared him, scared him much more than the Dark Forces that he had given his life to master. He was terrified at the thought of a union of such depth, such magnitude, of allowing himself to every become so close to anyone, of opening himself entirely...but he realized that Harry had been right and that it was ultimately inevitable. It had been preordained.  
  
Yes, he'd given himself to Harry as part of a bargain, but he'd realized once it was done that there was some soul-deep connection between them, one that could not be ignored or denied - as if he'd belonged to Harry through all eternity and was only just now allowed to realize it. In some way he could not understand the two of them were one, two halves of a whole and that if they were ever to be ripped apart now that they had been brought together it would bring disaster to both of them. Destroy them, even. It was a bond forged of something beyond any magic either of them knew, a bond that could never be broken...  
  
And that scared him, that he could be bound to someone so deeply, belong to someone so completely.  
  
Harry shifted slightly, his arm outstretched as if searching for something. Searching for _him. Wanting to make sure I'm still there, still his...  
  
_ Draco felt a sudden wave of exhaustion spiral through him, no doubt brought on by his work with the Arnelin. He sighed and crept onto the bed, curling up against Harry's chest and taking what seemed to be an irrational amount of comfort from the steady beat of Harry's heart. Listening to that lulling, rhythmic sound he dropped off into sleep.  
  
Harry just smiled and pulled his Draco even closer. Although he might snap at him, be cold and impersonal as he saw fit, hide behind harsh words and an icy demeanor, Harry knew that he belonged to him in both body and soul. And apparently Draco was starting to figure that out.  
  


* * *  
  


The owl went rushing back up into the night sky, soon little more than a white speck and then fading into nothing. Mireille watched it go, her eyes troubled, before turning back to Peter, who was reading the message with of both disgust and disbelief. She leaned over his arm to see what was written.  
  
Recalled? They can't be serious.  
  
Peter was shaking his head. It's all official, all in order, but...there's just something odd about it. Especially now, when it's vital to have as many Aurors as possible out tracking down those who support this new regime, what with Dark wizards making a comeback in a big sort of way...it doesn't fit...  
  
We could go back, do some investigating? Mireille suggested.  
  
No. I have a strong feeling that we should keep going after Potter, that if we do we could very well find out what brought on _this_, he waved this message, and then just have two things taken care of...no, we'll go on.  
  
Mireille shrugged. She really had no desire to go back and found herself wondering how many Aurors actually would. The two remounted their broomsticks and pushed off into the sky, flying north.  
  



	9. Falling Apart

mast9

Disclaimer in Part 1.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chaos and fear are snaking their choking tendrils into the very heart of the wizarding world. They must be curbed quickly, before we all suffocate in this encroaching darkness.  
  
_Well, _thought Hermione dully, _that's certainly a very eloquent way of putting it._  
  
She looked around at the other people pushed together in the crowded room, their faces illuminated by the glow of candles as they gazed upward at the stern-faced, middle-aged witch standing on the platform in the center, her low, commanding voice holding them all in thrall. Morgan Derlian had once been one of the best Aurors in the world, ruthlessly hunting down dark wizards so that they could be brought to justice until one encounter had left her with her vision gone and unable to pursue her foes as she once had, much to her fury. She had refused to go into a quiet retirement the way that so many Aurors did, instead remaining with the Ministry as an advisor, rapidly gaining respect for her wisdom and almost supernatural ability to predict the movements of dark arts supporters, born out of her many years in the field. She had always been in the innermost circle of Ministry officials, advising them in virtually every conflict, trusted beyond any other - until, of course, the Ministry had gone mad.  
  
Which led back to the question floating through everyone's mind - _why _was the very institution meant to _protect _witches and wizards suddenly and inexplicably all but abandoning the never ending fight against evil?  
  
They weren't under any kind of spell - those who had joined the underground rebellion' that opposed the Ministry's changes in priority had done endless subtle, sly tests to determine that. There was nothing _wrong _with the officials; they were all perfectly normal except for the fact that they'd suddenly turned a blind eye on the stirrings of dark powers due to a sudden, overpowering urge to focus on international relations - an urge that had likewise seized all of the foreign leaders, like some kind of virus. It didn't make any sense, there was something out-of-place with the whole situation, leaving everyone troubled and very, very confused.  
  
...two of our Aurors have managed to locate what seems to be an organized massing of dark creatures in Rumania, in the Carpathian Mountains.  
  
Hermione wrenched her thoughts back to the here-and-now, to where Morgan was still speaking.  
  
It would appear that they are under the command of the Dark Lord and are only waiting for the most opportune moment to strike. Which, given our current situation, could indeed be at any time.  
  
Hermione and Ron exchanged worried glances. If dark forces were to attack now, with the wizarding government in such a weak, unprepared position they would encounter virtually no resistance and be able to slaughter them like wolves in a sheep's pasture. Once again they were both hit with the unshakable feeling that the strangeness in the Ministry was directly connected with the movements of the dark side - but _how, _ when they weren't being influenced in any way? It was like there was some missing piece of a puzzle to it all, something that would make everything fit if they only knew what it was -  
  
...a small group of us will be relocating to Rumania, the easier to keep watch on their activities. Those going will be myself, Mara Young, Lauren Rhys, Jon Inred, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. The rest of you are to stay here and try your best to do something within the Ministry....Paul Joneston will be in charge in my absence. Those who are going, be ready to leave within the hour.  
  
The crowd of people began to shift toward the doors, talking softly and seriously, their faces grim and tense in the soft light. Hermione and Ron were the last to leave, their hands reaching across the distance between them to clasp, a note of comfort in a rapidly darkening world.  
  


* * *  
  


Draco slammed the door shut, his silver eyes flashing dangerously in his tense face, every muscle in his body tensed so that he looked like a predator ready to pounce. Harry looked up quickly at the disturbance, sensing a storm about to break and mentally bracing himself. He didn't have long to wait.  
  
They know. His voice was tight with stress.  
  
Harry stood up and moved so that he was alongside Draco, close enough to touch but not making any move to do so. He could feel Draco's agitation rolling off of him in waves, giving the air around him a charged atmosphere and making the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. He felt he would scream from the tension.  
  
Who knows what?  
  
The ones who broke from the Ministry - who somehow have the wit to realize that something is obviously wrong. They've gotten themselves organized, apparently they've got Aurors out scouting who've managed to find the army; if they're already in the Carpathians it won't take them long to find us -  
  
Harry cut him off. How do you know all this?  
  
The Arnelin. I saw their thoughts. Draco suddenly slumped forward, his hands gripping the table edge so hard that his knuckles were white. And some of them are coming _here, _to this area-  
  
So? Drachkan is warded. And we could always use the Arnelin-  
  
But Draco was shaking his head and Harry suddenly noticed that he looked sick, had in fact looked sick for about a month, ever since he'd started using that bloody Arnelin. He had always been thin, but now he was dangerously so, his robes hanging loosely off his almost skeletal frame and dark blue shadows outlined his enormous eyes; it looked like he was wasting away. Harry felt a pang of ill ease, wondering why he'd never noticed this before and then remembering that Draco could very easily have diverted Harry's attention elsewhere so he wouldn't see how sickly he'd become. He had that kind of power. Harry grasped the other's bony shoulder, fighting his rising panic.  
  
Draco. What. Is. Wrong. With. You. It was not a question, it was a demand for information.  
  
Draco smiled, a twisted, bitter smile that looked more like a grimace of pain. If you would use the Arnelin, you must pay a price. It drains your life force to feed itself, the life of humans is where it gets all of it's power from. At first if can only drain you when you're actually using it, but then it can even when you're not, and by now it has that hold on me. It's draining me, Harry, bit by bit...  
  
Harry was staring at him, stunned. No. Draco was not dying. That could not happen; it would kill him, too. No.  
  
And then he knew what he had to do.  
  
He grabbed Draco's wrist and before the pale boy could do anything about it he pointed his wand at him and yelled, Draco crumpled immediately, Harry catching him in his arms and tucking him into an armchair before rushing off to the dungeons where he knew Draco worked most of his magic.  
  
It didn't take long to find the bloody thing, it was shining in his mind like a beacon, probably because of his connection with Draco. As he held the silvery orb in his palms he noticed angrily that it was glowing brighter than ever and giving off a gentle warmth. No doubt supplied by Draco's life force. Well, that was going to have to end. Right now.  
  
He wasn't sure if it would work, but he never stopped to think. Pointing his wand at the Arnelin, he _shoved _pure power out through his body, focusing it in his wand and then letting it erupt from his wand tip in a jet of pure magic, a blinding stream of violet light. Nothing could possibly withstand such an onslaught; the orb burst into a million tiny fragments in a flash of silver light, reduced to nothing more than a shower of glittering dust.  
  
Harry allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction before pressing his wand to the tiny dragon on his right wrist and muttering, _  
  
_They appeared instantly in their customary black cloaks, faces hidden as always. Harry noticed that they seemed somewhat surprised to see _him _instead of Draco, but - he'd make them obey him. Somehow.  
  
Listen to me. His voice was low and intense, his green eyes blazing. There are enemies coming here - enemies to the Dark Lord and to yourselves. They cannot find him - all of you go, and seek them. Kill them as you find them, leave none alive. He drew himself up, and suddenly he looked commanding and terrible, much the same as Draco did, so that none of them would have dreamed of disobeying him.  
  
Go. Now.  
  
They bowed acceptance of his command and vanished.  
  
Harry took a deep breath in the silence, becoming aware of a presence behind him.   
  
  
  
I'm sorry. But you would have tried to stop me, and I refuse to let you die. I refuse to let something take you away from me.  
  
Draco came up behind him and leaned his head on Harry's shoulder. I forgive you.  
  
Harry turned around and kissed him, deeply and passionately. Then drew back to look into those extraordinary silver eyes that had haunted him for so long. I love you.  
  
Draco just smiled. Are you ready?  
  
  
  
They Disapparated.  
  
  
  
  
  
So...are you all as confused as I am???? Probably!!!!!! So here's a run down of the facts so far:  
  
Harry agrees to join Draco on the dark side if Draco gives himself to Harry. Draco agrees. Harry joins him, then steals the Arnelin for Draco. Hermione and Ron figure out that Harry is evil and decide they want nothing more to do with him. Draco uses the Arnelin to divert Ministry attention away from Dark Arts activity, but a group of people, including R&H join an underground movement that opposes that new order of the Ministry and are selected to go to Rumania in an effort to learn more about dark activities. Harry realizes that the Arnelin is killing Draco and destroys it, then sets Dark Wizards on the good guys. More confusion to come in the next chapter!!!  
  
Urgh. This is weird. Please review on your way out!!!   
  
  
  



	10. Dawn

mast10

Disclaimer in Part 1.  
  
  
  
The moon was only the slimmest of crescents in the dark sky, a slash of silver on black. In a few more nights it would be gone entirely, turned to the dark moon, but for now anyone being denied the oblivion of sleep could look skyward and take some slight comfort in it's faint presence - an eternal reminder that all things come to completion, then fade away, and are then resurrected once again. Nothing is fixed; nothing is permanent. In the end, all things must change, must be destroyed only to be made anew. Everything is flux. Stone crumbles, writing fades. The only thing to stay the same is change itself.  
  
This idea was very much in the thoughts of Ron and Hermione as they lay sleepless, their eyes burning in their lonely camp in the midst of the Carpathians. Just a few years ago they had been so close to Harry, bound together in a friendship that had seemed so true, so real, so unbreakable. They'd been through so much together; tears, laughter, danger. And now look. Through some bizarre twist of fate Harry had found a new path, a path as different from the one everyone had believed he was meant for as could possibly be. And in the end they could only let him go and deal with the consequences. The Harry they had once known was now only a memory, a ghost, lost to them forever. Or at least in this lifetime.  
  
Harry himself was sleeping, curled up in his nest of blankets by the banked campfire, pressed up against the warmth of Draco's body, his eyes flicking beneath tightly closed lids. But Draco wasn't resting, wasn't allowed the peace of dreams. His eyes were wide open, staring into the darkness, his body tense for some reason he couldn't identify, straining against passive waiting. He couldn't bear it, slipping out of the mess of blankets he stalked along the rock ledge with the grace of a cat, his eyes taking in the silent huddle of his army. They would have to be released directly on the morrow, before the wizarding world could recover from the effects of his Arnelin spell weaving...he sighed. He'd put so much care into that glamour so that Harry wouldn't notice what was happening to him and in just one moment of carelessness it had all come out. But deep inside he was grateful that it had ended. It _had _been useful, essential to his plans. But also deadly.  
  
His eyes traveled to the east. The sliver of moon had set and he could just make out the jagged outlines of mountains against the horizon. Something deep inside him shuddered at the thought of the dawn. He knew that whatever came, this would be a day to change everything...or nothing.  
  


* * *  
  


But it is impossible to stop the flow of time, no matter how much one might like to. Dawn came, the red rim of the sun breaking over the eastern skyline the way it had since the earth had formed, a process that was inexorable and irresistible and would continue until everything was at last returned to dust and destroyed. Draco watched the light spread slowly across the land with a look of deep apprehension in his eyes. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was standing at the top of a great wheel about to turn, bringing him to the ground either to set him on his course or crush him beneath it's weight, deciding his future with it's motion. He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself, a reflex born not entirely of the early morning's chill.  
  
He didn't turn when he felt Harry come up behind him, there was no need to. He just stood and waited for Harry to speak first.  
  
We release them now?  
  
Draco stepped up to the edge of the cliff, looking down at the vast bulk of his army. He drew a deep breath and raised his arms, suddenly appearing tall and imposing, like some entity from a higher world. Hundreds of silent faces stared up at him, tense and expectant, awaiting his command, willing to fight for him, die for him. And Draco accepted their pledge.  
  
He threw his head back to the leaden sky, dull and ominous, and a cry rose up from his throat that echoed throughout the stony landscape.  
  
Go. Go and _fight!  
  
_They moved like a well-oiled machine, trickling out of the valley in ribbons, a never ending line of death. Draco watched them for a moment, his face impassive and aloof, before turning to Harry, his hands reaching up to clutch at his arms.  
  
Will you watch over them for me, guide them for me?  
  
Harry nodded gravely, reaching up to gently clasp Draco's hands in his own, their eyes meeting, green melting into silver. Harry felt a sudden pang of foreboding as he leaned over to press his lips to Draco's, as if this would be the last time he ever did this. He tried to push it away and desperately deepened the kiss, sensing tears building behind his lids at the feel of Draco responding just as fervently, his arms reaching around Harry's neck. But it finally came to it's inevitable end despite their efforts to draw it out, their faces drawing apart slowly, reluctantly. Draco ran his hand along Harry's cheek, looking like he wanted to say something, but then he just gave Harry a sad smile and stepped back.  
  
Harry felt his heart contract. Where are you going?  
  
Those achingly beautiful eyes flicked uneasily to the west. I can sense something...  
  
That pang of dread again. Let me go instead.  
  
But Draco was shaking his head, the expression on his face set and determined. No. You stay here, guide the army. I'll be back whenever I'm done, don't be so paranoid. I can look after myself, you know.  
  
Harry bit his lip, knowing that putting up an argument would be useless. So he watched in silence as his love Disapparated, then pressed his wand to his temple, murmuring, His vision immediately expanded, left himself, looked out on the vast horde stretched out beneath him and knew he could command them with a single word - but even then, filled to the brim with such an awesome power, on thread of his consciousness remained fixed on that slender white-and-silver figure moving through a colorless world.


	11. Mists

mast11

Disclaimer in Part 1.  
  
  
  
  
He'd sensed it not long after sunrise, a throb of warning pressing dully against his consciousness, telling him that something was amiss. Telling him to be wary and alert, keen to anything that could probe to be a nuisance. A danger. Telling him that if he wasn't careful he would be caught in a net, a net that would never let him go...  
  
He Apparated to the rocky, crevasse strewn slopes of Mount Darmal, blinking slightly in surprise. He hadn't really meant to come out _here; _there was nothing special to distinguish this particular mountain from the ones surrounding it: it was small, nondescript as far as mountains go, with a rather unappealing squat, bulky shape to it. He'd only meant to go west, maybe to Mount Yrnach where he could have at least been able to see the landscape for miles around, or maybe even Lardon Plateau, where there was some kind of underground energy well that amplified one's magical powers a great deal. But certainly not _here. _There was nothing _here._  
  
Or was there?  
  
He could feel it now, a prickling sensation crawling up his spine to the back of his neck, making his white-blonde hairs stand on end. He let himself go still, very still, sharpening his senses to the environment around him, quivering like some sort of feral predator stalking it's prey - only in this case _he _was the one being stalked. He could _sense _it, something that didn't belong here, something that opposed him, that wanted him taken down. That hated him.  
  
He reached into his robes, long, delicate fingers closing around the smooth wood of his wand. Weapon ready to be used, he whirled around only to come face to face with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.  
  
Shock coursed through him, as cold as if a bucket of ice water had been injected directly into his veins in the place of blood. For one split second he was paralyzed - one split second too long.  
  
His two enemies didn't seem nearly as surprised to see _him _- then again, they'd always assumed he was at the bottom of every situation involving anything evil - and besides that, their wands were already out and ready. And so while he was standing there gawking they aimed those rods of doom straight at him and cried, two voices acting as one, __  
  
One Stunning Spell is efficient; it gets the job done. Two combined is even better - not only do they successfully stun the object of the caster's wrath, but also manage to knock it backwards about twenty feet, resulting in it's head encountering a hard object and thus insuring that it will be quite senseless for quite a while. Such was the fate of Draco Malfoy. Ron and Hermione walked slowly toward their fallen enemy, wands still aimed at the limp body, their faces wary and cautious. Ron reached out a foot and gave Draco's unconscious form a rather ungentle nudge - no response. He looked over at Hermione and shrugged.  
  
Not much of a threat now, I'd say.  
  
Hermione nodded and gave her wand a brisk flick, causing silvery bindings to shoot from it's tip, rapidly wrapping themselves around Draco in an inescapable sheath. The two regarded him dispassionately. He looked so very vulnerable like that, all tied up, his eyes shut tight with that whitish hair all mussed and framing that delicate face like a halo. He looked so fragile, so ethereal, like he would just break apart at any given moment and be lost to the world forever, leaving a gaping void where he should have been. And so beautiful. Heartbreakingly beautiful. Dangerously beautiful.  
  
Ron shook his head furiously, clearing his head of the pale boy's spell and turned to Hermione, who seemed to be likewise enraptured. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder roughly. She turned to him, blinking dazedly, her eyes somewhat glazed.  
  
Herm. We'd better bring him back to the others.  
  
Her expression cleared; she was once again the focused, business-like girl he knew. With another wave of her wand Draco was floating about three meters above the stony ground, his head lolling backwards on his neck, adding to his image of overwhelming helplessness. The trio began to move forward, two walking, the other floating down to a sheltered cave on the far side of the mountain, a black dot in the distance. Over them all was that dreary sky, the sun no longer visible through the thick layer of clouds, adding a feel of sorrow and doom to the scene. And slowly but surely long tendrils of mist were reaching out, engulfing the landscape in a cloak of eerie whiteness, causing the hair on the backs of their necks to stand on end. Murmuring quick protection spells, they hurried on.  
  


* * *  
  


Some distance to the east Harry cried out, an anguished cry ripped from the very depths of his soul as he sensed something deep within him give way. He felt his grasp on the horde weaken and slip away, leaving them milling around lost, confused, and useless, but that hardly mattered now, in the face of what was happening within him. Something was happening to Draco.  
  
All the processes of rational thought seemed to leave his mind then and he ran, ran blindly through the rapidly rising mist without noticing where he was going and not really caring, lost in a sea of swirling whiteness.  
  


* * *  
  


Morgan, Peter, and Mireille set down their wands, completing the last of the warding spells over the former Dark Lord's army, effectively trapping it until it could be properly dealt with. When some semblance of order had been restored. Draco Malfoy had confessed everything while under the influence of Veritaserum: how he'd drained Voldemort of power so that he could be defeated and thus allowing him, Draco, to take his place, how he'd won the Death Eaters to his side and then set out to seduce all sorts of Dark creatures to his service, his interventions with the Ministry, and - most serious although perhaps least shocking - how Harry Potter had become his greatest ally.  
  
His ring of supporters were in a silent huddle in the back of the cave, trapped in a magical cage. It hadn't taken much to find them - they had all stayed close together, thus exuding a magical aura not difficult for a trained Auror to sense. Mireille couldn't suppress a smile at that - they weren't very intelligent, just skilled in black magic. But Potter hadn't been among them, to the unspoken disappointment of Ron and Hermione.  
  
Those two were kneeling next to Draco's still figure, Ron's face like stone while Hermione was weeping quietly into his shoulder, a picture of dull, exhausted sorrow. At last, after several long minutes she managed to raise her tear-stained face and speak, her voice broken and rusty.  
  
Harry - is he also trapped, then? With the army?  
  
It was Morgan who answered. No - he wasn't in the area we put the wards on. We don't know where he is, but - I don't think we'll be needing to worry about him any more.  
  
A flicker of unease passed over Ron's features. And why is that?  
  
There was a long silence. Then Mireille's voice answered.   
  
It's the mists - they're a magical gateway. These mountains have always held certain magical vortexes in them - openings that can allow witches and wizards to pass into the nether world if they're here at the right time; the mists are one such passageway. If a witch or wizard were to wander in them while under protection they would be able to prevent falling through unwillingly, but those who don't use proper precautions just fall through into - somewhere else.  
  
Ron and Hermione were silent. Then, So Harry's just going to wander out of this world forever?  
  
In all likelihood, yes.  
  
But wouldn't he be able to come back through?  
  
Mireille sighed. If he had gone through deliberately, using the proper spells, then, yes, he would. But if you go through without casting those spells first, the way back is closed to you, you're trapped. So those who just wander through on accident, unprepared - they don't come back. The way is closed to them.  
  
Ron stood up and stumbled the cave's mouth, staring out at the thick wall of impenetrable white that confronted him, feeling curiously empty inside. He shut his eyes and a single tear ran down his cheek. _Goodbye.  
  
_But when he spoke his voice was steady and perfectly calm. Well. I guess that ultimately it's all for the best. Better to have Harry lost forever than to have to deal with the knowledge that the boy who had once been his best friend was locked up in Azkaban or St. Mungos for the rest of his life, having turned to the darkness. Better to just have him - gone.  
  
Mireille walked over to Hermione and stood looking down at Draco. What about him?  
  
Morgan answered once again. Best to take him and his followers back to London - once the Ministry officials are themselves again I have no doubt that they'll be wanting to pass judgment on them. She reached out a hand and Peter took it, guiding her to where the other's were huddled. Mireille waved her wand at the cage with the Death Eaters in it and it promptly shrank. She pocketed it with relish.  
  
Pick him up, she said, jerking her head at Draco. We'll Apparate back now.  
  
And then they were gone.  
  


* * *  
  


Harry continued to stumble through the mists, lost and alone, trapped in some sort of dreamlike state in which everything was distant and unreal. He couldn't see clearly, think clearly. All he knew was that he had to get to Draco.  
  
He stopped, casting about mentally for any trace of something that could be him, only to come up with nothing. Nothing. The place where he had so often felt his love's presence was curiously empty, just a gaping hole within him. But surely if Draco had died he would have known -   
  
He pushed that unwelcome thought away, banishing it. No. If Draco had died he would _felt _it - and probably died as well.  
  
But then why couldn't he at least _sense _him?  
  
Harry continued his blind journey through the mists, tears of hopelessness and confusion streaming helplessly down his cheeks. He didn't know where he was and where he was going and he didn't really care at this point.  
  
All he knew was that Draco was gone.  
  
_Gone._  
  


~**Finis**~  
  
  
  
  
OK, I guess you all want to know why I chose to end it there...the answer is that if I opt to write a sequel, that sequel would take place in a very different world than the one used here and would thus merit it's own separate tale. I do have an idea for a sequel, I am guessing that there are some among you who would like one...?  
  
Thanks to all my reviewers, you guys make my day!!!!


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